With me I had brought home about all that my team could haul of supplies, clothing, and groceries, which soon made my family comfortable. I had met Brigham and shaken hands with him, but had not made my report or delivered the money to him. The next morning Brigham called to see me, and notified me that the Council would meet at nine o’clock at Dr. Richards’, and for me to be there and make my report. He appeared ashamed of the manner in which my family had been treated.

“Brother Brigham, how does this compare with your promises to me, when I trusted all to you?” I said.

“Brother John,” Brigham replied, “I am ashamed of the conduct of this people. Do not blame me, Brother John, for I have done the best I could.” Then putting his hand on my shoulder, he said: “Don’t feel bad about it. You will live through, and the day will come when we can look back and see what we have endured for the Kingdom of Heaven’s sake. Lord bless you, Brother John.”

Allow me to jump from 1847 to 1877, just thirty years. I have remained faithful to the end. I was adopted by Brigham, and was to seek his interests here, and in return he was to seek my salvation; I, being an heir of his family, was to share his blessings in common with his other heirs. True to my pledges, I have done his bidding. I have let him direct my energies in all things. And the time has come for me to receive my reward. An offering must be made; I must hew the wood and build the altar; then, as did Abraham of old with his son Isaac, I must be laid upon the altar as a sacrifice. I must meet my fate without murmuring or complaining; I must submit, true to the end. If I endure firm to the end, I will receive the martyr’s crown.

After my return, my first duty was to build comfortable houses for my family. Soon afterwards I was sent to St. Joseph to cash the checks and purchase goods to supply the wants of the people. I was directed to purchase a lot of salt and potatoes from a Frenchman at Trading Point. I did so, and bought three hundred dollars’ worth on credit, and sent it back to the settlement. I had to borrow the money from Mrs. Armstrong to pay the three hundred dollars. But she was afterwards sealed to me, and it was then all in the family. I never asked Brigham for it, and he never offered to pay it.

On that trip to St. Joseph I bought fifteen hundred dollars’ worth of goods, such as were needed at the settlement. I advanced seven hundred dollars of my own money; the remainder was from the money sent home by the Mormon Battalion. I took the goods back and we opened a store at winter quarters. Brother Rockwood acted as chief clerk and salesman. We sold the goods at a great advance. What cost us seven cents in St. Joseph we sold at sixty-five cents. Everything was sold at a similar profit. I kept the stock up during the winter and did a good business. One drawback was this: many of the families of the men who were in the Mormon Battalion had no money, and we were obliged to let them have goods on credit. I had to stand the loss myself, for few of the men ever paid a dollar due me when they returned.

Andrew Little was in the battalion, and at the request of Brigham I let his family have two hundred and fifty-eight dollars’ worth of goods. Brigham said I should have my money when Little returned, but I never got any of it. Little was also an adopted son of Brigham, and did about as he pleased. James Pace, Thomas Woolsey, and a few others of the soldiers paid me when they returned for what I had advanced their families, but the majority never paid.

When I returned from Santa Fe I found David Young, his wife, and two daughters lying sick and helpless really in want. I took care of them and supplied them with food and such articles as they required until the death of the father, mother, and one son, which took place in a short time a few months after my return home. I had baptized this family in Putnam County, Tennessee, and felt an interest in them. The two girls were sealed to me while we stayed at winter quarters, and became members of my family. They are both living. By them I have had three sons and three daughters. They were sealed to me in 1847. I was also sealed to Nancy Armstrong the same evening that I took the Young girls to wife. A few evenings afterwards I was sealed to Emeline Woolsey. She was my thirteenth wife.

Nancy Armstrong’s maiden name was Gibbons. She was the wife of a wealthy merchant by the name of Armstrong, who owned a large establishment in Louisville, and another in Carlisle, Kentucky, at which places he did business as wholesale and retail dealer in dry goods. I became acquainted with the family at Carlisle, while preaching there.

The people of Carlisle were bitter enemies of the Mormon Church, and a mob threatened to tar and feather me one night, when Armstrong took me home with him and protected me. He was not a believer in any religion, but I always considered him a high-minded, honorable man. I afterwards often stopped at the house.

His wife and sister Sarah were believers in the Mormon faith, but as Mr. Armstrong was not, I advised his wife not to become a member of the Church, and refused to baptize her until her husband would consent to it. Elder Smoot afterwards baptized Sarah Gibbons and Nancy Armstrong.

Brother Smoot had taken his wife with him on the mission, and she laid the plan to get Sarah to go to Nauvoo. A wagon was sent to take Sarah Gibbons’ goods to Nauvoo, and in it Mrs. Armstrong sent her valuable clothing and jewelry, amounting to more than two thousand dollars. She intended to join the Saints at the first chance.

Within a few months after Sarah had gone Mrs. Armstrong got the consent of her husband to pay a visit to her sister and the Church at Nauvoo; he fitted her up in fine style, sending two serving maids to wait on her.

Soon after she left home the friends of Armstrong advised him to stop his slaves at St. Louis, if he wanted to keep them, for his wife would never return to him. Armstrong stopped the slaves, and his wife went on to Nauvoo, where she stayed until the Saints left that place after the death of the Prophet. Elder Smoot had planned to get Mrs. Armstrong to Nauvoo, so he could be sealed to her and get her property. Sarah Gibbons was sealed to Elder Smoot, but Mrs. Armstrong would not consent to take him as her husband; but she lived in the family until she got disgusted with Smoot’s treatment of her sister. She loaned him nearly all her money and he never paid it back; he wanted the rest, but she refused to let him have it; he then declined to take her with him across the plains. She told her griefs to my wife Rachel, and Rachel brought about the marriage between her and myself.

Mrs. Armstrong told Rachel that I was the first man on earth to bring the gospel to her, and she had always had a great regard for me, but I appeared to treat her coldly. Rachel told her that I always spoke kindly of her, and the reason I had not been more friendly was because I thought she wanted to become a member of Brother Smoot’s family; that she had heard me speak of her in terms of praise many times.

Finally she came to my house and I asked her, in the presence of my wives, to become a member of my family. My wives advised me to be sealed to her, and, as the matter was agreeable all round, I was. Brigham sealed her and the Young girls to me. She was a true, affectionate woman. My whole family respected her. She was forty-eight years of age when she was sealed to me, and remained a true wife until her death.

In matters of this kind I tried to act from principle and not from passion. Yet I do not pretend to say that all such acts wore directed by principle, for I know they were not. I am not blind to my own faults. I have been a proud man, and in my younger days I thought I was perfection. In those days, too, I expected perfection in all women. I know now that I was foolish in looking for that in anybody. I have, for slight offenses, turned away good-meaning young women who had been sealed to me; refused to hear their excuses, and sent them away heartbroken.

In this I did wrong. I have regretted the same in sorrow many years. Two of the young women so used still keep warm hearts for me, notwithstanding my conduct toward them. They were young and in the prime of life when I sent them from me. They have since married again, and are the mothers of families. They frequently send letters to comfort me in my troubles and afflictions, but their kind remembrances serve only to add to my self-reproach for my cruel treatment of them in past years. I banished them from me for lesser offenses than I myself had been guilty of.

Should my story ever fall into the hands of Emeline Woolsey or Polly Ann Workman, I wish them to know that, with my last breath, I asked God to pardon me for the wrong I did them, when I drove them from me poor young girls as they were.

Brigham built a gristmill during the winter, and ground meal for the people, charging a toll for all that the mill ground. In the spring I was ordered to go out and preach, and raise thirty-three wagons with the mules and harness to draw them. I succeeded in getting thirty of the teams. Brigham told me to go again, that he had asked for thirty-three teams, not for thirty. I went again, and preached so that I soon had the other teams. I then turned the whole outfit over to Brigham, so he could send his pioneers to look up a new home for the Saints. I offered to go with the company, but Brigham said:

“I cannot spare you; I can spare others better than you.”

Brigham directed me to take my family and a company and go and raise corn for the people. He said:

“I want you to take a company, with your family, and go up the river and open up a farm, and raise grain and vegetables to feed the needy and the soldiers’ families. We cannot depend on hauling our substance from Missouri, to feed the many that we have on our hands. I want so much grain raised that all will be supplied next winter, for we must feed our animals grain if we wish to cross the plains next spring. There is an old military fort about eighteen miles above here, where the land was once farmed, and that land is in good condition for farming now. We will leave Father Morley in charge of the various settlements. Brother Heber C. Kimball will send some of his boys and make another farm this side of there.” Then turning to Father Morley, he said: “I want John to take charge of the farming interests and the settlement at my place, and you must counsel and advise with him from time to time. I want you and all the brethren to understand that the land nearest the settlement is to be divided between John and his wives, for they are workers. The others are to go further for their land.”

At this I said that such an arrangement would not give satisfaction to the people; there were several of his adopted sons already jealous of me, and I feared the consequences, and preferred to have the land divided more equally.

“Who is jealous of you?” he asked.

Then I named several persons to him. In reply he said, naming a man, that he would work all day under the shade of a tree. Another could work all day in a half-bushel. Then he said:

“Such men will do but little; let them go to some outside place for their land. I want those who will work to have the best land. Let each family have an acre near the settlement for a garden and truck patch. And now, Father Morley, I want you to see that John and his family have all the cleared land they can tend, for I know they will raise a good crop, and when it is raised we can all share with him. I want a company to follow Brother John, about the 1st of May, when the grass is good, made up of men that can fit themselves out comfortably. My brother, John Young, will lead them, and Jedde Grant will be their captain.” Then he turned to me and said: “Brother John, I want you to fit my brother John out. If he needs oxen, let him have them, and I will pay them back; see that he gets a good outfit. When he leaves here Father Morley will take charge of the Church. I want the brethren to do as Brother John tells them; he carries a good in- fluence wherever he goes; no evil reports follow him from his field of labor; all respect him, and that is evidence to me that he carries himself straight.”

Now, I settled up my business at the winter quarters. Brigham was indebted to the firm two hundred and eighty-five dollars; he had not the money to settle the account, and he was just starting to look out a resting place for the Saints. His first adopted son, Brother Rockwood, our salesman, could not spare a dollar, so the loss of that money fell on me. I told Brigham he was welcome to the two hundred and eighty-five dollars. Before he left for the new land of promise he said to me:

“My son John, what shall I do for you?”

“Select me an inheritance when you find the resting-place,” said I.

“I will remember you. May Heaven bless you. I bless you. Be a good boy. Keep an account of how each man under your charge occupies his time, while I am gone.”

Brigham then said I was to have half the improvements that were made, and half the crop that was raised by the company I fitted out with teams, seeds, and provisions.

The pioneer company started April 1st, 1847. We moved to our new location, and called it Summer Quarters. We threw up a fort to protect us from the Indians, as they were troublesome. We then laid out our land. I found that if I obeyed orders it would require all the cleared land for my family, so I set off three acres to each family there were thirty-seven families for gardens, and took the balance.

Although I had given each family three times as much land, for a garden and truck patch, as Brigham ordered, the people found a great deal of fault with me. Mrs. Armstrong had some money left, and she told me to take it and send for supplies and seed corn. I did take it, and sent four teams to Missouri for corn and provisions, and then set all hands at work building the fort and putting the land in order for the crop.

About the beginning of May thirty-eight warriors of the Oto tribe came to our camp. They were in full paint, and on the warpath. They came in on the yell, and at full speed. It was just daylight; I was laying the foundation of a house when they came to me. I threw logs against them as if I did not see them, but most of the brethren kept out of sight.

The Indians began to build a fire in my garden, and one raised his gun to shoot one of my oxen which the boys were driving up. The majority of the Indians formed a half circle, holding their bows fully strung, and commenced a war dance. We had been told not to shoot Indians, but to take sticks and whale them when they commenced any depredations. As the Indian took the leather casing from his gun so that he could shoot, I rushed them with a heavy club, with the intention of knocking down as many as I could. I could speak their language some, and I told them I would kill them all if they shot my ox. They saw that I meant what I said. Then the two chiefs held out their hands, and yelled to the warrior not to shoot. He lowered his gun and returned to the crowd, but he was very angry. The other Indians seemed amazed, and stood as if paralyzed. Old man Knight followed me with a club, and stood by me all the time. Joseph Busby said:

“Hold on, Brother Lee, they outnumber us.”

“For all that,” said I, “there are not Indians enough in their nation to make me stand by and see them shoot down my oxen before my eyes.”

Busby then ran into the house to load my gun, but he was so frightened he could not get the powder in it, and my wife Rachel loaded it for him. I looked around to see how things were, and saw seven of my wives standing with guns in their hands, ready to shoot if I was attacked. I succeeded in driving the Indians from the settlement.

Some time after the Indians had gone away an old chief returned and brought an ax that he said one of his bucks had stolen. I gave him a little ammunition and bread, and he left me as a friend.

My firm stand saved the settlement at that time and secured it from molestation in the future. The Indians never bothered us at Summer Quarters again. In the fall they made us a friendly visit, and called me a Sioux.

Near our settlement there was an abundance of wild game deer, turkey, prairie chickens, ducks, geese, brant, and squirrels which gave us much of our food during our stay. We worked diligently and raised a great crop of corn and vegetables. We built comfortable houses, and made the floors and roofs of basswood, which was plenty near by, and worked easily.

In July the people were all sick. The fever and ague were fairly a contagion. Other diseases were not uncommon. In August and September seventeen of our people died. During these months we had hardly a sufficient number of well people to attend to the sick. The most of my family were very sick. My little son, Heber John, the child of my first wife, Agathe Ann, died; also David Young, Sr., the father of my two wives, Polly and Louisa; also their brother, David Young, Jr. I lay at the point of death for some time. I was in a trance nearly one hour and a half.

While in this condition my wives Rachel and Nancy stood over me like guardian angels, and prayed for me. My spirit left the body and I was taken into another sphere, where I saw myriads of people many of whom I was acquainted with and had known on earth. The atmosphere that they dwelt in was pure and hallowed. Pain and sorrow were unknown. All was joy and peace. Each spirit was blest with all the pleasure its ability enabled it to comprehend and enjoy. They had full knowledge of earthly doings and also of the sphere where they were so blest. The glory of God shone upon them, the power of Heaven over-shadowed them all, and was to them a shield from temptations and dangers. I was anxious to remain, but the spirits told me I must return to the body and remain in it until my appointed time for death that my work on earth was not yet finished. I obeyed, but did so with reluctance, and once more entered the body, then apparently lifeless upon the bed of sickness.

After taking possession of the body again I lay some time in deep thought, contemplating the majesty of God’s works. I then spoke to my faithful nurses, and told them of what I had done, heard, and witnessed. I recovered from my sickness, but my life was for some time a misery to me. I longed to join that angelic host I had so lately visited in their mansions of glory and pleasure, where I knew I was to go when I escaped from this body of earthly material.

This feeling of anxiety to go to my eternal rest was strengthened by the bitter, malignant actions of men who acted like demons toward me and mine. Every species of intrigue and meanness was resorted to by several of the brethren to injure and torment me. They were jealous of me and anxious to provoke me to violence. Everything that envy and hatred could suggest was tried to break up and scatter my family. Finally they reported to Father Morley that nothing but a change of rulers in the settlement would bring peace.

Father Morley came, with several elders, and called a meeting, at which he heard all the parties state their grievances against me. He then told them they had brought nothing against me that reflected upon me as presiding officer; that I had acted well and for the best interest of the entire people; that all the trouble arose from the wrong acts of the people.

One of the brethren, C. Kennedy, proposed a change. He wanted a High Priest to preside instead of a Seventy. I was tired of my position and consented to the change. A man by the name of Fuller was selected by Kennedy to rule over the people. Father Morley put the question to a vote of the people, and said that all who wished a change of rulers should hold up their hands. Only two hands were raised. Then he said that all who wished me to remain in charge should raise their hands, when every person present but two voted that I should still be the ruler at Summer Quarters.

Father Morley called upon the two brethren who had voted for a change to get up and tell what they had against me. They could give no good reason for wanting a change. They said they had never lived by a better neighbor or kinder man than I was, but that I was too kind. I let the people run over me; and they voted for a change believing it would tend to unite the people and satisfy those who had been raising a fuss and finding fault.

Father Morley told them it was wrong to vote against a good man for such reasons. He talked to the people on the principles of their religion for some time, and advised them to forsake their evil ways, for they were going in a road that led to hell. This ended my troubles for a time, but I soon found that my enemies had only let go their hold to spit on their hands and get a better one.

They asked to be allowed to organize a Danite force for the protection of the settlement. This was to be entirely apart from me. I granted their request. It was next decided to build an estray pound. A meeting was called and it was agreed that each man should build fence in proportion to the amount of stock he owned, and that the public corral should be used for the estray pound. But no stock was to be put into the pound until all the fencing was done and the gates set up. I at once completed my fencing, but the grumblers had no time to work; they were too busy finding fault. The whole thing was a subterfuge, and was meant to bother me. There was no need of a pound, as our cattle were herded in daytime and corralled at night. But I submitted, for I knew I could live by their laws as well as they.

One evening, as my cattle were being driven up for the night, one of the oxen broke through a brush fence and got into a patch of corn. The herdsman ran him out in a moment. Instead of holding the herder responsible for the damage, or coming to me to make a complaint and demand pay for the wrong, they took my ox out of the corral, and, contrary to the vote of the people, tied him up in Wm. Pace’s private corral. I was the only man who had made his fence, as ordered by the meeting. I did not know that they had my ox tied up (for work had not been done to justify putting any stock in the pound).

Next morning I sent one of my boys to yoke up my oxen; he returned and informed me that one of my oxen was missing. I soon found the ox, and demanded its release. I was told I must pay twenty dollars before I could have the ox, and pay it in money. I saw this was done to worry me, and sent word that I would pay in any kind of property I had.

They refused everything but money or butter. I had neither to spare, and they well knew it. I was still weak from my recent sickness, but I walked over and had a talk with Wm. Pace and tried to reason with him, but to no purpose. I told him he ought to take pay for damage done by stock in the kind of property that the stock had injured, but no, I must pay money or butter, or lose my ox. I reflected a moment and concluded that forbearance had ceased to be a virtue; that unless I defended my rights I would soon be without anything worth protecting. I then walked into the yard, untied the ox, and told my boy to drive him home. Pace stood by the gate with a large cane, but made no resistance; in fact, he was not a bad man, but was being misled by evil company.

Kennedy, Busby, Dunn, and others were a little way off. They saw me, and came running up. Kennedy was the bully of the camp, and the leader of those against me. He came up and said:

“If I had been here you would not have turned that ox out. I would have switched you if you had tried it.”

“Kennedy,” I said, “I have lost property enough without your oppressing me any more.”

He shoved his fist under my nose. I parried his blow, and told him that he would do well to keep at a proper distance from me. He again made a pass at me. I then threw down my hat and said:

“If you attempt that again you must take what follows.”

He came at me the third time, and as he did so I aimed to spoil his face, but he dropped his head as I struck; the blow took effect on his eyebrow, and badly sprained my thumb. We were on a little knoll, full of stumps of small trees that had been cut down. Kennedy caught hold of me and commenced shoving me back.

I knew that my strength would not last long. I did not wish to risk having a tussle among the stumps, so I backed towards the cleared ground. I fastened my left hand in his long black hair to steady myself, and as I reached the flat ground I suddenly leaped back, breaking his hold by tearing my shirt. I then jerked him forward at an angle of forty-five degrees, and planted my fist in his face; stepping back, and drawing him after me, I kept feeding him in the face with my fist, the blood spurting over me.

The crowd saw their bully getting the worst of it, and ran in to help him. Brother Teeples caught me around the arms, to prevent me striking any more. My Rachel, who was standing by, called to her brother, James Woolsey, and he came and took hold of Kennedy and separated us. I was sorry that this fight took place, for I had severely punished the bully, and his face was badly bruised.

This suited the people; I had shown violence, and now they could lay a charge against me that they thought would stand. I was cited to appear before the High Council, and be dealt with according to the rules of the Church, for a breach of the peace and for unchristian conduct.

The whole people were not against me, only a few; but there were enough of them to keep up a constant broil. They began consecrating my property to their own use; killed my cattle, and ate them, and stole everything that was loose. They stole wheat from my graneries, had it ground, and ate it, and bragged about it.

Kennedy, by the evil influences he commanded, induced my young wife, Emeline, to leave me and go to his house, and she went with his family to the winter quarters. That was the reason that I turned her away and refused to take her back. She repented, and wished to come back, but I would not receive her.

Similar influences were brought to bear on all of my family, but without success. Such treatment was not calculated to bind me to such a people, whose only aim appeared to be to deprive me of every comfort and enjoyment that made life endurable. I was in great trouble; in place of friends I had found enemies. There was a struggle in my mind to decide what I should do. I looked upon those of my family that remained true and shared my persécutions, and knew that if I left the Church I could not keep or live with them; that if I left I must part with all but my first wife and her children, and to do so was worse than death. I did not know what to do. I finally appeared before the High Council to meet my accusers, who had formed a combination to destroy me. I had few friends to defend me, and they were in a measure powerless. They dared not speak their mind in my behalf.

Father Morley was true to the last, although he was becoming unpopular on account of having so long supported me. Lieut. Gully was another true friend of mine; he said he would never turn against me until I had done something wrong, even if Brigham should desire him to do so. This lost him his influence in the Council.

The most willful and damnable lies were brought up against me. Many things which had been said and done in moments of amusement and jocularity were remembered, as though I had said and done those things for wicked purposes. Everything that could be discovered or invented to injure me was laid to my charge. All who were against me had a full chance to talk.

Brother Johnson, who was there, but not as a member of the Council, was called upon to fill a vacancy occasioned by the absence of some member. He made a speech to the Council, and showed where I had acted well; he then voted for my acquittal. Brother Cummings, who had been a member of the Council when I was first tried in the summer, and who then took my part, now thought he would make himself popular with the people, so he volunteered his evidence and bore false witness against me. This man’s action was wrong and uncharitable. I had been more than a brother to him in the past; I had supplied his family with food when they would have suffered but for the help I gave them.

The result of the trial was that I was ordered to confess I had been in fault; that I was alone to blame, and must ask the people to forgive me. If I refused I was to be cut off from the Church.

To a man in my situation it was equivalent to death to be cut off from the Church; my wives would be taken from me, my property consecrated to the Church, and I turned adrift, broken and disgraced, and liable to suffer death at the hand of any brother Danite who wished to take my life to save my soul. I replied that in justice to myself I could not make such confession, but, if nothing else would do, I would say as the Council commended me to say that is, I would make the confession. I was told that this would not do; that no whipping of the devil around a stump would do them; my confession must be full and unconditional.

What the result would have been I cannot say, for just then a messenger returned, saying that Brigham was near at hand, on his return with the pioneers who had gone out with him to look for a resting place for the Saints. This stopped proceedings.

The majority of the people rushed forth to meet Brigham. I returned home, conscious of my innocence and willing that the people should have the first show to talk to Brigham and give him their side of the case. I did this so that I might see how much he could be stuffed.

The people told their story and misrepresented me in every way; they told Brigham how I had divided the land, and said that I and Father Morley both declared that he had ordered me and my family to take the cleared land.

Brigham sided against me.

After that there was nothing left undone by many of the people to irritate or injure me or my family.

My property was stolen, my fences broken down, and everything that vile men could imagine or work up by studying deviltry was done to make life a burden to me. I had raised over seven thousand bushels of corn, and everyone had a good crop. I had a large lot filled up in the husk, and I let my cattle run to it so as to keep them fat during the winter, that I might drive them over the plains in the spring. My enemies took advantage of my position, and drove my cattle from my own corn pile and put them into the estray pound. I offered to put all the corn I had into their hands as security, until I could have a meeting called to examine into the charge. I wanted my cows at home, for we needed the milk. I had a large family, and many little children that would suffer without milk. Half the men in the settlement offered to go my security, but to no purpose. I sent Lieut. Gully to Brigham with a statement of the case, but he paid no attention to it. Gully was well acquainted with Brigham, and a fine man too. He insisted on giving Brigham the story in full, and demanded that he should go in person and see to the matter. But Brigham was immovable.

Things stood this way until Emeline, one of Brigham’s wives, took the matter to heart, and begged him to look into the affair. She asked him to bring her to my house, to visit her sister Louisa, then one of my wives. He came, but said little of the trouble, and soon left.

Two days afterwards I wrote Brigham a kind letter, and invited him to come to my house and eat a turkey dinner with me. I sent this by Brother Stewart. He met Brigham on his way to my house and gave him my letter. I did not expect he would come to see me, but he was there. He treated me most kindly. When supper time came he said to one of my wives:

“Sister, I have come for a bowl of good milk, but skim the cream off.”

“We have no milk,” she replied.

“How is that?” said he. “I thought Brother John always had milk.” I then told him that the Danites had my cows in the pound.

“What on earth are they doing with your cows?” he asked.

Then I told him the whole story in a few words. He scarcely waited to hear me, but called to his carriage driver, Grant, and said:

“Come, George, I will go and see about this matter.”

He soon returned, saying:

“Your cows will presently be here.”

Brigham then asked me where my turkey was. I told him Kennedy had robbed me of all my turkeys, but perhaps I could borrow one from him. I then sent Brother Gully to ask Kennedy to loan me a couple of fat turkey’s; that I had Brigham at my house and wanted them for his supper. He sent word that Brigham was welcome to all the turkeys he wanted, at his house. I then told Brigham I would go hunting and get him a nice one for dinner the next day. I went out that night with Gully and hunted some time, but the snow was a foot deep or more, and a crust had frozen, so that it was difficult hunting. At last we found a large flock of turkeys at roost in the tall Cottonwood timber. I shot two by starlight; one fell in the river, and we lost it, but the other fell dead at the roots of the tree. This was a large and fat turkey. I considered that it would do, and we returned home with it. We had been gone only a little over an hour.

Brigham stayed at my house. We sat by the fire and talked until midnight. I unbosomed myself to him. I told him of my ill treatment, and asked if I had failed in any respect to perform the duties of the mission he gave me before starting with the pioneers across the plains. I told him of the great crop we had raised; that we had it in abundance to feed the poor and for every purpose; so much, in fact, that there was no sale for it. He said:

“You have done well, and you shall be blessed for it.”

To this I replied that I hoped my blessings would be different from those I had been receiving. He replied:

“Jesus has said, In this world you shall have tribulation, but in Me you shall have peace that is, if you bear these things patiently, without murmuring.”